In the midst of this court was the tomb of the Countess of Egmont, the charming and unhappy daughter of Marshal Richelieu. The princess Julie had received, by the aid of her nurse and Dame Landry, a message from Létorière. He announced to her that he should endeavor to introduce himself into the abbey that very night. It was eleven o'clock; Mlle. de Soissons, oppressed by inexplicable presentiments, was praying on the steps of Madame Egmont's tomb. At any moment the Marquis might arrive by the subterranean passage. The silence was profound, and interrupted only by the groaning of the wind which whirled through the arches. Despite her resolution, despite the noble and religious purpose which dictated her action, and the purity of her soul, the princess Julie was almost frightened at having given a rendezvous to Létorière in the chapel of the abbey. It seemed to her a sacrilege. Little by little her terrors ceased, giving place to anxiety and devouring uneasiness. A lamp burning in the chapel threw a dim light upon the gloom. Mlle. de Soissons, kneeling near the door which communicated with the subterranean passage of the cloister, listened eagerly on that side. Presently steps were heard, the lock was broken, and Létorière appeared before the princess, who could not repress a cry of surprise and love. "At last it is you! . . . I see you again . . . my friend!" . . . cried she with delirious joy; and added immediately: "But come into the gallery; let us leave this holy place." When the light of the moon permitted the princess to see the Marquis, she was struck by the pallor of his countenance. He was enveloped in a brown cloak, and walked with difficulty. In spite of his wound received that very day, in spite of the progress of the disease, and the tears and supplications of Dominique, the Marquis, accompanied by Jerome Sicard, had succeeded in scaling the walls of the Abbey. "I see you once again, Julie!" said he, with an accent of inexpressible tenderness. . . . "Soon nothing shall separate us again, my friend!" said the princess, extending her hand towards the Marquis. "My hand! . . . no . . . no . . . just heaven! . . ." cried Létorière, withdrawing in affright; and he wrapped himself more closely in his cloak. Mlle. de Soissons, profoundly astonished, looked at him in silence. "Julie . . . Julie . . . pardon me . . . if I thus withdraw myself from you . . . but hearing of the illness of the king, and that he was abandoned by all . . . I went to him; I did not quit him for an instant, until his death." . . . "Ah! I understand," cried the princess. "This terrible disease is contagious, and your devotion will perhaps cost you your life . . . will cost us, perhaps, our happiness!" "No, no, reassure yourself, Julie . . . all hope is not yet lost. . . . Although suffering, I wanted to see you to relieve you of all anxiety, to tell you that my lawsuit is gained . . . and that no obstacle now opposes our happiness." . . .